


A Hymn From The Heart of A Mother’s Universe

by 13Kat13



Series: Cosmic Siren Song Playlist [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Captain!Victor, Fantasy, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Mother-Son Relationship, Science Fiction, Siren!Yuuri, Space Gays, Space Siren AU, Star Trek - Freeform, Victor gets his Extra from somewhere, Victor's still the thirstiest boy in the universe, but not really, but still very pg, everyone loves Yuuri, i've never watched an episode what do you want, just feels a little like it, slightly risque at the end, this entire series is fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 11:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13856823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13Kat13/pseuds/13Kat13
Summary: ““Vitka!”Victor’s hit with a wave of bergamot and ode, long silver hair and cashmere. Slender arms loop around his neck, and it's his childhood home in the form of one woman."Fourth in the Space Siren AU. My take on Victor Nikiforov's mother, the source of his extra, and someone I desperately want to meet like Yuuri's getting to.





	A Hymn From The Heart of A Mother’s Universe

**Author's Note:**

> More space gays for your weekend reading pleasure. Once again thank you for all comments, kudos and love this series has received. You make me very happy x

 

Despite spending a couple of days of it ill in bed, Victor enjoys the beginning of his visit to Johanosvik Starbase. Or perhaps it is  _ because _ of the illness that he likes it. After all, it’s the best way to avoid the attention he always garners in places where Space Fleet’s influence is strong.

 

His mother arrives whilst Victor’s still weak with the dregs of sickness, recovered but drained. Chris has been stepping in for the official and not so official meetings that’re always an obligation when checking in to a starbase. There's even more on one’s like Johanosvik of course, it holding the Council and other important political headquarters, so Victor tries not to resent his First Officer too much when he swings by Victor’s rooms with his mother in tow and no warning whatsoever.

 

“Vitka!”

 

Victor’s hit with a wave of bergamot and ode, long silver hair and cashmere. Slender arms loop around his neck, and it's his childhood home in the form of one woman.

 

“Mama,” Victor splutters, catching the woman’s hug with only a slight stumble. “I didn’t know you’d arrived.”

 

“Well you know how I love surprises,” his mother says, leaning back with her hands still on his shoulders to take a look at him. “You’re even more pale than usual, Vitka. And is that my necklace?”

 

Victor grins at his mother, takes in those familiar grey eyes, sharp features and wicked smirk.

 

“You weren’t wearing it,” he points out, hooking a finger around the silver chain at his neck.

 

“Of course not, luchik, it suits you,” Vasilisa agrees, before turning to Chris, who they’d been conversing mostly in French for the benefit of. “Thank you for showing me up, Christophe dear. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Chris agrees, kissing her cheeks whilst flashing Victor a smirk that says this is in fact revenge for leaving him to handle all those meetings. Then he says, “I’ll leave you to your son and his partner then.”

 

And he promptly fucks off. Victor makes a mental note  _ not _ to drop off the bottle of thank you wine he’d been planning to.

 

“Speaking of,” Vasilisa says, switching to English as she looks over Victor’s shoulder, eyes sparkling.

 

Victor turns, and finds Yuuri has stepped out of Victor’s private rooms into his office, probably to see what all the noise is about. He has his hands twisted in his skirts and is watching Vasilisa Nikiforova with a large measure of trepidation. Quite rightly so.

 

“You must be Yuuri,” Victor’s mother says, sweeping past Victor to reach the siren, who promptly goes wide eyed.

 

“Mama,” Victor sighs, hurrying after her to intercept.

 

She’s too quick for him of course, and sweeps Yuuri in to place a kiss on each of his cheeks. The siren comes back from this stiff as a board, shoulders up around his ears as he stammers out a greeting.

 

“H-hello,” he says, before throwing Victor a desperate look.

 

“Yes, Mama, this is Yuuri,” Victor sighs, stepping forward and looping an arm around Yuuri’s waist. “My mate. Yuuri, this is my mother, Vasilisa.”

 

He manages to shift Yuuri slightly so his mother has no choice but to drop her hands. He knows Yuuri’s not always a fan of people touching him and this seems to be one of those moments. Vasilisa throws Victor a look that says she knows what he just did, but behaves herself anyway. She seems more distracted by his announcement anyway.

 

“Your mate?”

 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Yuuri says, his voice steady despite him still being stiff at Victor’s side.

 

Victor beams down at him.

 

“Yes, Yuuri’s my mate,” he says, tone fond in a way that makes Yuuri peek up at him and flash him a smile. “It’s what sirens call lifelong partners.”

 

Victor turns back to his mother, and finds her doing a very good impression of Phichit whenever there’s mischief and general bullshit afoot.

 

“Well, I see my son has  _ drastically  _ neglected his duties and failed to introduce me to his husband,” Vasilisa says, ignoring what can only be described as an objectrary honk from Victor over the title. “But it’s lovely to meet you too, dear. I can see why Victor likes you, he always did love beautiful things.”

 

“Mama…” Victor whines, but only receives an eye roll in response.

 

“Has he given you a tour of Johanosvik yet?” she asks Yuuri next, and Victor can tell that she’s planning away regardless of the answer.

 

“Er, no, we um, Vitya’s been sick,” Yuuri explains, throwing a quick glance at Victor as though afraid he’s ratting him out.

 

“Oh psh,” Vasilisa says, flapping a hand. “No excuse, he should’ve sent you with Christophe. That man knows all the best places for culture.”

 

“You mean best places for drink and debauchery,” Victor returns, taking a step back and drawing Yuuri with him towards his private rooms. “I know what you two get up to together.”

 

“Slander and lies,” Vasilisa counters easily, following as Victor leads them into the living room. 

 

“It is not,” Victor retorts before switching to his mother tongue. “And Yuuri can speak Russian, Mama.”

 

Vasilisa’s eyes light up at that. She turns to Yuuri, something delighted unfurling across her expression that Victor has a very bad feeling about.

 

“I did wonder…” Vasilisa starts, causing Yuuri to take on that look of a prey animal again. “How’re you learning all of our languages so quickly? It’s very impressive.”

 

Yuuri retreats until he’s pressed close to Victor’s side again, his free hand coming down to smooth his skirts automatically.

 

“I um,” Yuuri starts. “Sirens can — well we’re telepathic.”

 

“You’re  _ what?!” _

 

Victor should’ve expected and been prepared for the shriek before it happened, but nevertheless it still takes him by surprise.

 

“Mama,” he complains, still wincing. “Volume.”

 

“The man can read minds, Vitka, don’t talk to me about volume right now,” Vasilisa retorts quickly before turning her attention back on Yuuri. “Can you tell what I’m thinking right now?”

 

Yuuri, who had gone stiff again at the loud noise, seems to relax a little at this.

 

“Oh no, it’s um, triggered by touch,” he explains, seeming to settle into the explanation more easily. “It’s how I picked out Vitya’s languages.”

 

“But you’d still have to comprehend them  _ very _ quickly,” Vasilisa points out, and now Victor can see her scientific brain wiring, understanding the feat, seeing the possibilities.

 

Victor goes over to unhook his coat from the rack near the door, a small smile on his face.

 

“Instantly in fact,” Victor says, his chest swelling with pride for how his smart, brilliant mother can see just what a marvel Yuuri is. “And I know you’re going to suggest we do lunch so why don’t we just go?”

 

Vasilisa agrees with a distracted nod, her eyes distant as her mind keeps going on the subject. Victor leaves her to it and goes to retrieve Yuuri from where he’s hovering nervously near the couch.

 

“Will you be warm enough in just that, love?” Victor asks as he gestures to Yuuri’s dress. He feels his mother’s attention snap back to them at the nickname.

 

“Space, Vitya,” Yuuri points out, his nerves easily slipping away as Victor’s unnecessary worrying makes an appearance. “Lots of time floating in it. I’ll be fine.”

 

He brushes the tips of his fingers easily down Victor’s arm and Victor hears a little sigh from behind him. Victor turns to find his mother with a slightly wobbly smile on her face.

 

“Your children will be bilingual  _ and _ beautiful,” she says, which at first Victor thinks is silly because they’d be that regardless what with how many languages he himself speaks, before his brain catches up to the true crux of the sentence.

 

“Mama!” he admonishes. “Yuuri and I aren’t even married yet, stop talking about your grandchildren.”

 

Vasilisa shoots him a very flat, unimpressed look that tells him she intends to do no such thing before sweeping over to them. Yuuri only shrinks slightly this time.

 

“Shall we go then?” she proposes, and offers Yuuri her arm.

 

Yuuri, actually managing a smile albeit shyly, takes her arm and lets her lead him from the room. Victor follows, wondering if his mother stealing his mate is going to become a thing now. The answer is of course and he finds it surprisingly pleasing.

 

“Shall we walk?” Vasilisa asks, tipping her head back slightly as her and Yuuri glide out the door. “It’s a lovely day.”

 

“Every day is lovely on Johanosvik at this time of year,” Victor points out, unable to help the pedantic teenager in him rearing with his mother around. Although he is still pleased at the way Yuuri’s shoulders seem to have loosened slightly. “The spring atmosphere is synthesised.”

 

“So it is,” Vasilisa agrees easily, not calling his sardony out.

 

With that they make their way down to disembark from the ship, Vasilisa chatting away to Yuuri, her long silver hair and his skirts swishing out behind them. They make for a striking pair, and as Victor follows he’s free to watch the stares they garner as they step out onto the docks.

 

The docks are artfully softened by lots of leafy trees and careful planting. They’re the first thing any visitors see after all, and the Starbase is an important one. They catch the light of the sun which the base orbits, T0-19, and turn it into bright gleams off marble pavings and polished chrome.

 

Victor has a complicated love for Starbases. They’re an impressive sight and obviously wondrous feats of engineering. He loves the illusion — dimmed by the atmosphere in the day but magnificent at night — of just being able to step off the edge of one into an ocean of stars. Not that you’d be able to of course, the base’s atmosphere would catch you, but it’s a fun thought.

 

But they come with the politics that he’s so far avoided on this trip, and the notoriety of being Victor Nikiforov.

 

His mother is perhaps even more of an impressive figure, and Victor sees the usual few dawning looks of comprehension as she passes, quickly followed by hurried, excited whispers. Victor finds these stares flattering when directed at her, proud son that he is, and it’s not that he doesn’t like attention himself. But it can be blinding to be constantly under the spotlight.

 

Yuuri, no doubt used to being ogled after over a month of being the only of his kind among humans, takes it all in his stride. He’s resplendent in the spring sunshine. Victor’s only seen him bathed in artificial ship lights, or the overwhelming glow of his home planet and its sun. But the daylight on Johanosvik paints him a delicate gold, streaks his raven hair with a deep, amber browns and plays with the opacity of his skirts.

 

Though he ignores the crowds, Yuuri looks up at the trees with something like wonder. He completely ignores the beautiful architecture to hurry over to a yellow birch tree. He lets out a interested noise as the flakey bark crackles under his hand, and flips it over to look at the little flecks that’ve come off on his palm.

 

“Vitya!” he says, and Victor, who had paused to watch this fondly, starts towards him. “It’s like our crops, same texture!”

 

Yuuri turns back to the tree and looks up into the branches, his eyes wide.

 

“We don’t have those things though,” he says slowly, eyes on the branches swaying with the synthesised breeze. “Leaves, like on some of Seung-Gil’s plants.”

 

Victor just hums in agreement and loops an arm around his waist, not feeling Yuuri’s wonder needs any further commentary from him. Vasilisa however has also drawn close and is watching the siren with the same expression Yuuri’s looking at the tree with.

 

“Crops, you say?” she prompts, and again Victor can see the cogs turning. “In a vacuum?”

 

“Mama, there’s a lot of phenomenons about sirens to explain,” Victor points out, very aware of the growing number of interested people around them. Some of them are starting to look a little bolder about it too. “Can we talk about them whilst we eat?”

 

“Of course, dear,” his mother agrees, all too happy to take Yuuri’s arm again and continue on into the metropolis. “I have read your reports to Lilia after all, I just wanted to hear it from Yuuri himself.”

 

“You know those reports are supposed to be confidential?” Victor grumbles, a modicum of his hard working professionality showing through as they sweep through the crowds.

 

“Oh yes but for those kind of reports they’re not too worried over that sorts of thing,” Vasilisa says, waving away her son’s concerns as they step onto a bridge over the river.

 

Seeing as the reports she’s referring to are in fact about a very delicate and new issue, Victor doubts that.

 

“Especially after that big project I just did for them,” Vasilisa goes on. “When I’m  _ supposed _ to be retired.”

 

Yuuri, who had been looking at the great body of water with wide, interested eyes, turns his head at this.

 

“Vitya said you’re a wonderful Engineer, Mrs Nikiforova,” he presses politely, each step he’s taking like a dance across the marble flags of the bridge.

 

Victor notices then that he’s put on shoes for the outing; soft, canvas things Phichit gifted him, and feels a swoop of affection. Yuuri doesn’t like shoes, but he’s clearly aware that a human city is more likely to have sharp things on the floor for his feet to come across, what with gravity putting them there and all. And that civility calls for it. Victor loves him for trying.

 

“Did he now?” Vasilisa asks, a pleased note in her voice as she cocks an eyebrow at her son, clearly glad Victor’s talking about her to his mate although he’d failed to introduced them. “Well yes I am, it’s pretty much been the only thing I’ve ever done. Unless you count dance of course. And it’s Vasya for you, dear.”

 

Victor feels his mouth tug up at his mother skipping right over given names to diminutives, because Yuuri’s family now. He dips his head and breaths in the clean smell of the river, feels the sun on the back of his neck for a moment as he goes to speak.

 

“And many people  _ would  _ count your dancing,” he points out as they get towards the end of the bridge. “What with your success in it.”

 

“Oh hush,” Vasilisa says, clearly enjoying the praise despite her admonishment.

 

“You dance?” Yuuri asks, having waited for this little scene to play out but now latching onto something he has in common with Victor’s mother, eyes bright.

 

Victor sees a hint of it then; how important this is for Yuuri. That although he’d been surprised by it, the meeting is every bit as meaningful to him as Victor’s meeting with the Katsukis had been.

 

Yuuri launches into a description of his own dancing, and the siren and engineer spend the remaining walk to the restaurant swapping stories. Vasilisa is of course fascinated by siren dancing, understandably so when it’s not only an important part of the culture but also a potential weapon. By the time they finally step into the cool of the restaurant, Yuuri’s relaxed all the way and is talking animatedly about telepathy again.

 

“It’s not that humans have weaker minds,” he’s saying to the avid audience of Vasilisa. “But sirens are accustomed to blocking certain things from each other. Vitya was telling me about bilingual people having brains that show up differently in scans. It’s probably like that. Our minds have just grown differently.”

 

Yuuri falls silent then to look around the room they’ve entered. The restaurant, one of Vasilisa’s favourites, is half lit although its bright outside. This is due to the stained glass windows only letting some light through, the indistinct shapes of passersby visible outside. The ceilings are low and the ornate bar at the center of the long room gives the impression of a sort of 1920s train carriage.

 

They’re ushered in by a smiling but respectfully reserved host who takes Victor and his mother’s jackets, and shown to a round table with a small lamp at its centre. Yuuri settles in next to Vasilisa on the curved, green velvet couch behind the table whilst Victor takes a chair opposite them. The siren’s eyes have gone bright and wide again, apparently more interested in this gold and rose toned decor than the sleek modern architecture of outside, which he’s probably used to by now on the ship.

 

“It’s a little like home,” Yuuri points out, eyes taking in the wide, gold candelabras. “But with more soft things.”

 

Victor laughs at the analogy, catching Yuuri’s attention back long enough for the siren to smile at him.

 

“I agree, my sun,” he says, before leaning back slightly to accept a menu from the waiter. It’s nice that the neatly printed words on the card he accepts are in Cyrillic. He’s used to English now of course but in Johanosvik, where Russian reigns supreme, he can settle into reading easy as breathing.

 

The meal is pleasant if a little trying on Victor’s blood pressure. Yuuri is gorgeous under the soft lighting, and Victor’s mother sits beside him, somehow regal yet also relaxed as she tosses her head back and laughs gently at her son’s expense and his mate’s blush. She’s unbothered by the raw meat Yuuri orders of course, commenting that only the French truly know how to do a good steak. But they are getting a lot of attention, being who they are and looking how they do. They manage to get all the way to the end of the meal before someone comes over.

 

“Excuse me,” a very posh voice says, which is an accent that always makes Victor’s stomach sink. “I don’t suppose you’d be so kind as to give me an autograph, Mrs Nikiforova? I’m terribly sorry for bothering you, of course, feel free to refuse.”

 

Victor looks up at the man, who he estimates is about ten years older than himself, and decides that this last part probably isn’t true. There’s a certain air of entitlement that can fester if unwatched in places like Johanosvik.

 

His mother however, agrees with a gracious smile. The man thanks her as he draws a pen from his breast coat pocket and, what with the napkins all being cloth, gets a waiter to fetch him a slip of paper. The stranger then proceeds to wax lyrical about not only Vasilisa’s contributions to warp speed formulas and designs, but also her guest performance in a ballet many years ago. Victor doesn’t mind this, his mother is very talented and ought to be told so after all. He  _ does _ mind the subtle flirtations and the way the man looks at Yuuri next.

 

“Are you a dancer, young man?” he asks, straightening after taking the signed paper with grateful nod to Vasilisa.

 

“Yes,” Yuuri replies, smiling shyly and throwing a glance at Victor.

 

“Wonderful,” the man says with an affected emotional sniff and a long drag of his gaze down Yuuri’s torso. “I could tell immediately of course, your posture alone.”

 

“Thank you,” Yuuri says easily, though seems to be shrinking a little under the weight of the man’s scrutiny.

 

Victor slides a hand across the table to take his siren’s and decides that he’s been silent long enough.

 

“So nice to meet fans of my mother,” Victor says, flashing a sharp smile up at the man. “I hope you have an nice lunch.”

 

He says the last with an air of finality that makes the man’s expression, which had gone slack upon realising who Victor is, tighten with annoyance. He handles it well though, and thanks Vasilisa again before taking his leave.

 

“Well that was fun,” Vasilisa says, giggling into her wine glass as she takes a sip.

 

“Was it?” Victor asks drily, throwing her a look.

 

“Oh yes,” she returns, setting her glass down and beaming at him. “It’s wonderful to see you all riled up. It’s not like you to leave your Fleet responsibilities and find someone you want to protect, Vitka.”

 

Victor, caught off guard by this, can only blink back at her. Yuuri on the other hand, whose voice has taken on a quietly pleased tone, suggests they move onto their next activity.

 

* * *

 

Their next activity is a tour of the city that inevitably ends in Vasilisa spoiling her boys. She drags Yuuri and Victor, the latter of which usually loves shopping but is a little concerned for his mate, into every shop she finds to her taste.

 

Vasilisa’s taste is very good of course, and she has the sales assistants falling over themselves with her easy charm and dazzling smile. They’re no less vulnerable to the men, but are perhaps a little put off by Victor’s expression every time one of them flirts with Yuuri too much. The siren handles it well though, considering its his first time in a long time around a lot of new humans, not to mention these ones have far less training than Victor’s crew when it comes to beautiful, unearthly beings.

 

Victor’s proud of him, even if he does put a stop to the shopping earlier than he would’ve if it had it just been him and his mother. Vasilisa pouts, but then catches sight of Yuuri’s tired face and makes a guilty grimace.

 

“Do you boys want to come back for something to eat?” she asks, clearly thinking of all the light little dishes she can make after their big lunch as she sweeps out of the last shop ahead of them.

 

Victor’s mother doesn’t live permanently on Johanosvik, too attached to the beauty of her home planet to live on a space station. But she’s there enough for work and pleasure that an apartment in the centre is a necessary indulgence. Yuuri’s face, although tired, is coloured with curiosity and he gives Victor a little nod. Victor lays the hand that isn’t holding his on Vasilisa’s arm as they walk.

 

“That’d be lovely, Mama,” he agrees, noticing that the light is fading as the station orbits itself into its evening position. The stars are bright as the artificial atmosphere begins to fade from sight.

 

“Wonderful,” Vasilisa says, and Victor feels the sincerity in that word. They really don’t get to see enough of each other. “Shall I invite Lilia or do you have something set up with her already?”

 

Victor turns and looks to Yuuri, trying to gauge how much energy the siren has left. Yuuri shrugs easily and smiles.

 

“Might be nice to meet her with you,” he says, turning his smile on Vasilisa. “I hear she’s quite a presence.”

 

Vasilisa laughs hard enough that the few people still going between shops turn their heads.

 

“You could say that,” she chuckles when she composes herself, still grinning at Yuuri. “It’s certainly a very diplomatic way of putting it. Okay then, I’ll cushion my friend best I can.”

 

Victor, thinking that he’s been acting as a cushion for his mother all day, is nevertheless pleased. At least it hasn’t been  _ too _ much for Yuuri.

 

* * *

 

Lilia Baranovskaya sweeps into Vasilisa’s apartment with all the grace and devastation of the winter wind. She’s a tall woman, like Victor’s mother, but with a harder face and a tight, dark bun. After she sheds a vibrant yellow coat, she’s left in loose, but well tailored trousers and a shirt that flutters around her as she moves.

 

She glides over to Victor’s mother first, leaning in to kiss each of her cheeks, and the pair of them look like some sort of chic fashion commercial as Vasilisa keeps their hands linked to draw her over to where the couple sit.

 

Victor, who had been sat with his feet curled up on the couch with Yuuri, stands. He doesn’t miss the way Lilia’s eyes rake down his form, unable to help her dancer’s eye, and is glad he’s in a well tailored outfit, standing with a backdrop of the floor to ceiling window that looks out onto the city.

 

“Lilia,” he says, stepping forward to accept a kiss to each of his cheeks. “So nice to finally meet you outside of work. How are you?”

 

His words taste a little forced and formal after a day spent with family, but he can see his mother smiling at him over Lilia’s shoulder so doesn’t worry too much.

 

“I’m well, thank you, Victor,” Lilia replies, but her eyes are already looking past him towards the couch.

 

Victor turns and sees Yuuri’s standing, and whilst he looks nervous, he has all the effortless poise his dance training has taught him. Victor beams at him and holds out a hand.

 

“I’d like to introduce you to my mate,” Victor says as Yuuri comes forward, bare feet light on the floorboards. “Yuuri Katsuki.”

 

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Baranovskaya,” Yuuri says, his tone impressively light even though he squeezes Victor’s hand rather hard when he takes it.

 

Lilia’s eyes have narrowed like a hawk’s. She’s read of all Victor’s reports of course, seen a couple of photos. But her gaze rakes over Yuuri with an interest that has nothing to do with her Council responsibilities. She takes in his bare shoulders, the straight line of his back, the way his feet have landed unconsciously into a relaxed third position. Not that Yuuri has tried to do this. He’s a siren not a ballerina after all.

 

But as Lilia sweeps Yuuri in for a kiss to each cheek, Victor can see he may as well be. The Councilwoman and former dancer of the Johanosvik Ballet Company is looking at the siren with something like hunger.

 

“Please, it’s Lilia here,” she says, and Victor’s surprised but doesn’t miss the way she’s defined the place for calling her by her given name. “Are you enjoying your visit so far? I had intended to meet when you’d had a chance to settle in, but when Vasya called I had no plans.”

 

Victor notices that she doesn’t include the fact that she’d likely jumped at the chance. Lilia Baranovskaya jumps at very few things after all, and isn’t likely prone to sharing when she does. A siren though, a new species and a beautiful specimen of dance all in one, Victor imagines that might just have done it. Certainly does it for him on a daily basis.

 

Yuuri tells her he is indeed enjoying his visit so far, and manages to list a few of the landmarks and shops they’ve visited as Vasilisa brings out a drink for Lilia and some food for them all.

 

Victor loves his mother’s cooking. At the time, he’d never realised it was odd for a child to enjoy fruits and vegetables, but with the way Vasilisa prepares them it would be very hard not to. Yuuri certainly seems pleased as the dishes are laid out on the wide, glass coffee table between the couch and the two cocktail chairs facing it. Victor knows Yuuri loves food, but as Yuuri takes a stuffed pepper without waiting for someone else to go first he realises the siren must be really hungry. Victor feels a little stab of guilt at not putting a stop to the shopping earlier. But Yuuri’s already eyeing up the pirozhki though so he’ll probably be fine.

 

The conversation is surprisingly light and easy. Victor supposes his mother and himself are masters of charm and, when called for, manipulation, but Lilia seems very agreeable to making things easy for Yuuri. She even cracks what could be called a smile when Yuuri agrees to show her his dancing sometime in the future. And she holds off on grilling him at least, slipping in casual questions about siren culture with the flow of the conversation. Victor’s grateful, they’ll have plenty of time for scrutiny from the Council whilst here, they  _ don’t _ need it in his mother’s apartment.

 

By the end of the night though, Yuuri is fading a little. He’s started to lean a little more heavily on Victor, something he’d rigidly avoided doing in front of Victor’s mother and the Councilwoman up until now. But after two glasses of wine and plenty of food his eyes are heavy. Victor smiles to himself and loops an arm around his hips.

 

“I think we should call it a night, yes love?” he asks, nudging his nose lightly against Yuuri’s temple so the siren looks up at him.

 

Yuuri smiles, his brown eyes grateful and catching the low light of the room.

 

“Okay, Vitya,” he agrees, and lets Victor help him to his feet.

 

The women, who’ve been trying to look as though they weren’t watching this whole exchange, stand too.

 

“I think I’ll also be heading off, Vasya,” Lilia says, giving her friend a kiss that is less like the striking of wickedly sharp cheekbones from when she first arrived. Alcohol is a beautiful thing. “Thank you for sharing your family evening with me, I know you don’t get enough of them.”

 

“Something I’m sure could be rectified by the Council if they gave us both a little more rest?” Vasilisa teases, knocking her hip against Lilia’s in a girlish gesture that surprises Victor. He hadn’t known they were close enough for that sort of thing, otherwise Victor would’ve met Lilia in a less professional setting before now.

 

“As though we’d release either of our greatest assets,” Lilia returns archly, but there’s a little curve to the corner of her mouth that makes Victor think she  _ might _ be joking.

 

“Yuuri.” The Councilwoman turns towards the siren, gliding over to pin a kiss to each of his cheeks.

 

“Maybe you shall become an asset to us too, yes?” she poses, releasing Yuuri quickly with none of the fuss Vasilisa and her son put into such gestures.

 

“Oh um,” Yuuri stammers, glancing at Victor. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to see what the Council can do for my people before we talk about what I can do for them. What with our history.”

 

Victor feels a swell of pride and affection that makes it very hard for him not to pin Yuuri against the nearest wall. As it is, he contains himself so he can watch the first genuine smile he’s seen from Lilia unfurl itself across her features.

 

“You’d be a stunning prima,” she says then, her voice full of more emotion and longing than in anything she’s said yet. “Truly devastating to behold.”

 

Lilia lets out a short but undeniably wistful sigh, and then turns to Victor.

 

“Captain,” she says, but Victor doesn’t miss the playful lilt to the title.

 

“Your honour,” he returns, bowing his head.

 

Then the Councilwoman takes her leave.

 

“Well,” Vasilisa says, turning to the boys bright eyed and mischievous. “I think it’s safe to say the Council are going to getting  _ quite  _ the letter of recommendation for you, Yuuri. Lilia looked like she wanted to eat you.”

 

Yuuri lets out what sounds like a squeak, and lets himself sag against Victor, all his poise vanishing as he relaxes. It’s nice that he feels comfortable enough around Victor’s mother to do so.

 

“That… doesn’t sound so good, but if you say so,” he agrees, before only managing to half stifle a yawn.

 

“Okay,” Victor says, drawing him closer. “We must be going. Mama?”

 

Vasilisa’s already reached them though, and is scooping them both into a tight hug that makes Yuuri squeak again.

 

“We’ll see more of each other while you’re here,” she assures them, her voice warm by Victor’s ear. And Victor isn’t surprised by the fact that even though they’ve just had a really full on day, he can think of nothing better than many more like it. He just hopes he and his mother’s combined efforts don’t break Yuuri.

 

“Of course,” Victor agrees as she releases them both. “It’ll be nice to have you around whilst the trial is going on.”

 

“Oh psh, I wish you wouldn’t call it that,” Vasilisa returns, rolling her eyes. “You’ll scare Yuuri. It’s really just a formality.”

 

Victor knows it is very much  _ not _ just a formality, but stays quiet as Vasilisa winks reassuringly at the siren before turning to lead them over to the door. She grabs a container from the counter that’s already packed with leftovers, and presses it into Victor’s hands. The box has a reassuring grain under his fingers, ethically made from the bamboo forests on the Starbase and full of his mother’s cooking.

 

“Make sure you eat that and plenty of other food, Vitka,” she says as she hands his coat to him from off the rack, Yuuri collecting up their bags of shopping. “You’re too thin after being ill, but you’ve always been a beanstalk.”

 

“I like it,” Yuuri says, and then flushes as he realises what he’s just said.

 

Victor can only beam and make a cooing sort of noise as he draws Yuuri after him to the door, tucking him firmly under his arm as they step out of it.

 

“Be good, boys,” Vasilisa says as they turn for a last goodbye. “See you soon.”

 

“Bye, Mama,” Victor returns as Yuuri, still embarrassed, just mumbles and waves. “Love you.”

 

And they take their leave with Vasilisa’s returned love.

 

* * *

 

“You,” Victor says, after they’re both ready for bed and he can tackle Yuuri down onto the mattress. His siren goes with a yelp and then laughter. “Are a little beast and I love you.”

 

Yuuri, who’s only putting on the appearance of struggling as Victor pins his wrists, grins up at him.

 

“I did well?” he asks, and Victor doesn’t miss the breathy but teasingly innocent way he says it. God Victor is going to devour him.

 

“So well,” Victor confirms, leaning to hover inches from Yuuri’s lips, silver hair falling forward to frame them on one side. “They’ll all love you, my monster of beauty and blood.”

 

Yuuri, forever a sucker for violent compliments, preens and lets his head fall back to expose the long line of his neck. The t-shirt of Victor’s he’s wearing is barely a formality, it’s loose enough to be slipping off his shoulders and short enough to barely conceal his backside.

 

“Then how about you show me how well  _ you _ can do,” he poses next, eyes dark and hooded as he flicks them up to Victor’s. “Vityenka.”

 

Victor feels something lurch, hot and hungry inside him. There’s not a lot of talking after that, but Victor puts into his touch all the love he's feeling in that moment. Soaks his kisses in gratitude, and delights that this is his family now too, along with the one that's always loved him. And as Yuuri smiles and kisses him back, Victor couldn't be more happy.

**Author's Note:**

> The restaurant is based of one of The Ivy restaurants in London. Somewhere I've spent far too much money in but has a whiskey selection to die for. Highly recommend.
> 
> More is to come folks, we've still got Victor's trial and general fuckery to have fun with. Also I miss Phichit, I'm sorry my hamster son is not in this one.
> 
> I'd love to know what you guys would like to see from this AU, might do shorter drabbles, feel free to tell me in the comments or come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ewokthrowdown).


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